


finding love (standing right where we are).

by flustraaa



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Cinderella who, Doctor Magnus Bane, Drunk Alec Lightwood, Drunk Magnus Bane, English undergrad Alec Lightwood, Fluff, Gen, Lawyer Alec Lightwood, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, alec Lightwood is a DWEEB
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-07-19 05:58:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19969174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flustraaa/pseuds/flustraaa
Summary: oh, of course, Alec, certainly quoting shakespeare will get you laid— wait— did that actually work?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luckycharmz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckycharmz/gifts).



> i hope this fulfilled the prompt (and yes, it is multi chaptered) 
> 
> tweet me about it @flustraaa on Twitter!

Magnus is nursing his second sex on the beach between warm fingers as he overlooks the Lightwood Family Vineyard. It’s rare for him to accept an invitation to any high-class parties— and many find it odd as he himself is considered wealthy. 

But in truth, he’d rather hang out with degenerates that act in the same way as he once had almost a decade ago— reassure them that who they are is not who they’ll always have to be. 

This day, happened to be his freshman roommate from college’s wedding—and by God Magnus will deny it until the day he dies, but he has genuinely grown rather fond of Samosa over the years. 

Glancing down to the periphery of the vineyard, he can see the groom and his beautiful bride— definitely drunk of their asses— dancing around with the entire wedding party. 

Though, he can’t help but stare at the tall best man, who’s giggling as he nurses a pinot wine, nodding with whatever is being said by those below his feet. 

And when the man’s head turns to look at the blond before him, he catches Magnus gaze instead, halting his movements with a sudden looming stupor overtaking his dark features. 

He says something to Simon, who nods vehemently, patting Alec’s chest at a pace that is sure to leave bruises on his—no doubt, well sculpted— chest. His sister shouts something that strongly resembles, “ _Go get him tiger_.” 

Magnus hides a snort behind his hand as the beautiful man shoves his wine glass into the blonds hand, running to the base of the balcony. 

Magnus can’t breathe— the way the cotton candy sky and aureus rays shine on the enigmas skin— well, he could give any Roman Adonis a run for their money. 

“ _What is your substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend?_ ” He calls up, a drunken smile caressing his lips and a lilting slur hindering his words in a rather alluring way. 

“ _Shakespeare_ , darling?” Magnus retorts, a smile pulling at his lips, “Keep going, I’m being wooed.” 

The Adonis grins, licking his lips as he nods before speaking once more, “ _Since every one hath, every one, one shade, And you but one, can every shadow lend.Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit, Is poorly imitated after you_.” 

Magnus grins, resting his head on his palm in a besotted manner, “Surely you know that you’re the Adonis? At least, that’s what I’ve been calling you in my head for half an hour.” 

The smile quirking up the mysteries man’s lips pulls further, creasing the corners of his eyes as he lets out a muted— though no less amused— snort, “ _On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set,And you in Grecian tires are painted new: Speak of the spring, and foison of the year, The one doth shadow of your beauty show, The other as your bounty doth appear, And you in every blessed shape we know. In all external grace you have some part, But you like none, none you, for constant heart_.” 

“What’s your name Shakespeare?” Magnus teases impishly. 

“Nemo,” he calls back, before disappearing from Magnus’ view. 

_Holy shit_ , Magnus thinks, _he just pulled a goddamn Odysseus._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forewarning: i leave at 4 am for the airport for Nationals for a week, sooooo updates might be a little slow.

When Magnus wakes, he is painfully hungover— but it’s between one moment and the next that he remembers the Shakespearean boy who’s become a grade Cinderella pain in his ass. 

He shuffles with a groan to his phone, flipping it over before blindly dialling his best friend’s phone number. 

The line picks up on the second ring. 

“Hello? Hungover Isabelle Lightwood-Lewis speaking,” Comes the equally grumbled and befuddled feminine voice. 

“Hi darling, first of all, you looked absolutely stunning in your dress,” There’s a hum of thanks, followed by the immediate question of why he had called, “There was a very, very, beautiful Prince Charming at the reception who wooed me with Shakespeare and then disappeared into the night. Now, would you have any clue as to who that is?” 

She’s quiet for a moment, clearly trying to pass a though through her exhausted brain, “Tall, dark, kinda pale?” 

“With stunning cerulean eyes and fluffy raven hair?” Magnus choruses, sighing as he makes his way to the kitchen cabinet. 

“Oh— drinking a white Pinot noir?” She asks, shuffling against— what Magnus is assumes is, based on Simons snores in the background— the bed, “Thick New York accent when inebriated?” 

“That would be the one, my dear, who was that?” Magnus breathes our, “Because he, my darling, was an _angel_.” 

“That’s Alec, my brother—“ she pauses, and there’s more shuffling before she lets out a quiet laugh, “He is currently snoring at the foot of our bed laying half on top of my other brother— do you want his number? God knows he could use a boyfriend.” 

“He’s into _males_ , right?” 

“He was reciting romantic Shakespearean sonnets to _you_ and you’re asking me if he’s _straight_? Do you want the number or not Doctor Magnus?” She mumbles, sarcasm clear in her in her voice, “He is so, painfully, gay.” 

“Yes, Darling, I will gladly accept that number.” 

As it turns out, however, Magnus hardly needs it. On his lunch break, he takes a taxi down to his favourite pancake place— unable to get his hangover pancakes before he was paged by Catarina for a pile-up on the Brooklyn bridge. 

Instead, however, just before the hostess asks if he’s a table of one, he finds the Shakespearean smart-alec sitting at the table alone, eyebrows furrowed as he reads over a menu. 

“I’m with Alec actually,” Magnus responds, gesturing vaguely to the raven haired boy. 

The waitress— reasonably so, quirks an eyebrow, as if asking for a full name, to which Magnus smoothly responds, “Lightwood. Alec Lightwood.” 

She nods, accepting the answer as she places a menu in his hands, allowing him past, “I’ll have a water brought out to you.”

Magnus thanks her, taking a few strides to Alec before sitting down across from him. Alex, for his part, immediately startles, hand falling from where he’d been running it over scruff and eyes wide. 

He at least, has enough decency to blurt, “Oh, _Dios Mio_.” 

“Was that a I didn’t mean to serenade you with a drunken sonnet, or a oh my god it wasn’t a dream,” Magnus arches a brows, setting his menu down as Alec stares at him.

“I— holy shit, _both_. It’s both. I’m so sorry— my name’s Alec by the way— and apparently my occupation is dumbass.” 

It’s at this sentence that Magnus barks a surprised laugh, watching as the worry slowly slips away, fading into amusement. 

“You can make it up to me by telling me things that are actually true, about you, yeah?” Magnus nods, beaming at the enigma before him. 

“Only if you tell me your name,” Alec murmurs softly, leaning closer. 

“Magnus Bane, I met Simon in college.” 

Alec grins, and it’s at this moment Magnus knows he screwed, “You’re the infamous _serial-sexer_ , huh?”

Magnus blinks, nodding slowly, “How di— _Simon_.” 

Alec lets out a soft chuckle before nodding, “He slept in my dorm every time— that’s actually how he met Izzy, so I guess you’re the reason any of this even happened.”

Magnus can’t help but grin, “I guess so. Tell me, Alexander, what do you do?” 

“I teach Corporate Law three days a week at Cornell, and work five days a week at Fell and associates,” He replies, cheeks flaring with heat as he sees Magnus’ awed expression. 

“I think,” Magnus murmurs, picking up the water glass set before him with a quiet thanks, “This could be a beautiful friendship, my dear.” 

Alec agreed, knocking their glasses together in a silent toast. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao what’s this what’s this there’s mess ups every where

He runs into Alec quite frequently after that, and it leaves him utterly puzzled as to how he had so narrowly missed meeting Alec. 

As odd as it sounds, he often pauses a moment before alerting Alec to his presence in every new situation. It appears that each time, Alec fails to realise Magnus is there at all— whether it be that he’s tapping along his phone, reading a menu board, or other miscellaneous gestures. And each time he recognises that Magnus is there, a beaming grin finds its way onto his face and Magnus feels his heart race just a little bit more.

It’s not until Magnus catches a head of raven hair walk into the house across from his mother’s that he halts his actions completely. He pats around for his phone, tucking it between his shoulder and his ear once he’s found it. Alec, as always, picks up on the second ring. 

“Hi Magnus, what’s up?” He chirps, and Magnus watches as a figure appears in the bedroom window, setting down a box on the mattress. 

“This is going to sound weird,” Magnus mutters, and he watches as the frame in the window freezes, “But look down, _Romeo_.” 

Magnus holds his breath as the silhouette turns in the window, brushing what little is covered by white curtains apart before pushing up the window pane. 

“Hey,” Alec’s grin lights up the path from across the street, “Isn’t Julio supposed to be on the balcony?”

Magnus pauses, cocking his head to the side as he readjusts his phone, “ _Julio_?”

“I’m gay, Magnus,” Alec deadpans, and Magnus can see the quirks of his eyebrow from across the way, “ _Ergo_ , you’re my _Romeo_ and I’m your _Julio_.” 

“I’m your Romeo?” Magnus asks softly, leaning closed to the window. 

“If you want to be,” Alec replies, sending a half smile before he reaches to hang up. 

“Wait,” Magnus blurts, watching as Alec ceases, before continuing, “I _want_ to be your Romeo.” 

Unfortunately, it’s that moment that Magnus wakes with a start. He glances up at the ceiling, finding that he is, in fact, at Alec’s house— which just so happens to be beside his mother’s. 

“Hey,” Alec greets from the other arm chair, though it’s muffled by a spoonful of vegan strawberry ice cream, “How was your nap?” 

Magnus groans, rolling over before blinking at Alec bewilderedly, “When did I fall asleep? What time is it?” 

“You fell asleep before the end of the The Maze Runner, and it’s almost two in the morning,” Alec proclaims, eyes still focused on the screen. 

Magnus coughs, raising himself onto his elbows at Alec’s nonchalance, “Alexander, you could’ve woken me—“ 

Alec dismisses Magnus with a shrug almost immediately, “You looked too comfortable, besides, you seem like you could use it.” 

“Did you just call me tired looking?” Magnus feigns offence, though Alec rolls his eyes taking a sip of wine over a sip of red wine. 

“You’re incredibly handsome, and not at all tired-looking. I just know what kind of hours you work.” Magnus has to consciously force down the heat that rises to his cheeks. 

However, he is not as successful at hiding the yawn. Alec’s lips quirk into a light-hearted smile, in advance to inquiring in a warm tone, “Do you want to spend the night?” 

Magnus shakes his head, directly leading to a quirked eyebrow from Alec in precedent to Alec shoving a pillow in his direction and moving over to the unoccupied end of the couch. 

“Relax, I’ll sleep this way. None of the ghosts will get you,” Magnus is silent as Alec drapes a blanket across the small area in which their legs are sprawled. 

This time, however, it’s Alec who falls asleep— and it’s only as Magnus begins his own descent into somnolence that he hears gentle snores chorus along with Thomas Brodie-Sangster’s voice in the background.

Magnus wakes when the lock to Alec’s front door clicks open— and for a moment Magnus fears that Alec never locked it in the first place. 

He nudges Alec’s lower thigh with his foot— noting, absently, how impressive it is that his friend is a) still sound asleep, and b) how messy his hair has gotten despite being in the same position. 

“Alec!” Magnus hisses, kicking him with a little more force, “Alec! Wake up.” 

Alec groans, squeezing his eyes closed and scrunching up his nose as he rolls to face the back of the couch, “I’m sleeping.” 

“Your door opened—“ 

“It’s probably Jace,” Alec grumbles, letting out a snuffled huff, whilst tugging at the blanket. His words slur with the next phrase, “He’ll eat my food and leave—“ 

“He’s right,” a sudden voice proclaims from the door. 

Magnus’ head snaps up to find Jace smirking around a mouthful of pop tart. The former looks back to Alec for help, only to find he’s slumbering sweetly once more and Magnus rolls his eyes. 

“You know,” Jace says, voice absent and holding a peculiar amount solicitous, “I think you’re good for him.” 

“Pardon?” Magnus queries— packing absolutely no heat— okay maybe a little, and holding only curiosity.

“You’re good for him,” Jace repeats, setting his remaining pop tart on the plate as he sits on the arm chair Alec had been last night, “You’re the first person I’ve seen him like this with since... well, ever I guess. I dunno, just keep doing what you’re going.” 

Jace snatches a wad of bananas and a package of French Toast bread from the counter before heading in the direction of the door. 

He desists though, suddenly, feet skidding to a stop just before the door, “He likes you too, just so you know.” 

“How do you know?” Magnus questions, voice meeker than he’d care to admit. 

Jace just sends him a little simper that is not characteristic of the blond beast in any manner, shape, or form. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this one, yeah? Do something soon.”

Magnus focuses back on Alec, watching the way his lashes flutter over his cheeks as he dreams, breaths coming out in faint way which is hardly distinguishable as a snore. 

“Jace?” The blond terminates his motions mid step, waiting for Magnus to continue on, “Do you think I can woo him with poetry?” 

“ _And_ flowers,” Jace assures, before adding warmly, “He’s prickly on the outside but my brother is a big teddy bear on the inside.” 

Soon after, Jace is gone, the door is locked, and Magnus is admiring the aureus rays on _his_ Romeo’s face. 


	4. Chapter 4

When Alec invited Magnus over for a small family gathering, he’d been expecting Isabelle. Maybe even Jace. 

Instead, he was met by the fleet of adults that had encouraged him to recite Shakespeare to Magnus as dusk had begun to rise all those nights ago. He knocks on the door, coming in contact wood thrice before Jace greets him. He’s quickly ushered towards the kitchen, where he finds Isabelle holding a half empty wine glass. 

“What are you having darling?” Magnus inquires, setting the artichoke and parmesan dip on the table alongside his favourite red. 

“I’m having white,” she says, raising a glass beside her, “Alec has had— oh, I’d say about half a serving of wine and he’s already turned into a Shakespearean idiot.” 

Alexander is a lightweight, Magnus ponders, biting back a snort at the idea of his friend stumbling over one-half glass. It’s at this moment that a sweet smelling— yes, he has a drunken fragrance— pair of arms wraps around him. 

“Hi Mags, can I get you a drink?” His breath redolences of pinot noir and it’s warm on the back of Magnus’ neck. 

“That would be great, wine of choice?” Alec vacates the Magnus’ personal space, and the latter finds himself missing it. 

He sends a glance in Isabelle direction, only to find her gaping at the scene she had just witnessed, “Did you give him something? He isn’t the warm and fuzzy type, Magnus.” 

Magnus blinks bewilderedly, “ _What_?”

Before she can answer the question, there’s a glass of pinot noir before him and a warm Alec wrapped around him. 

After dinner, they settle around Alec’s coffee table, the game of monopoly laid between them. Alec’s on his second glass of wine, well beyond tipsy and slipping into the more broody stage of drunkenness. Though, Magnus will say, a hammered Alexander is a clingy Alexander. 

The taller male is currently holding essentially the entire board under his under his iron fist, slumped back against the couch as the rest of them try to plot their next advances. 

“Is he asleep?” Simon asks, reaching a silent— and alarmingly _shaky_??— hand out to poke Alec’s cheek. 

The man in question, however, grabs his hand before Simon can get anywhere near his Adonis-like features, “There’s no rest for the wicked.” 

“Alec you cried when Marley died in Marley and me,” Isabelle chimes, only to be abridged by her brother.

“I was _twelve_!” He mumbles, defensively. 

“Alec, it was last week!” She retorts, waving a finger at her brother who looks utterly betrayed. 

“I’m going to kill your succulent,” He states bluntly, and Magnus has to bite back a laugh at the stern expression on his face. 

“You wouldn’t dare touch Francis,” Isabelle growls across the table, “Do it and I murder your aloe in cold goo.” 

Alec, ever the gentlemen— you know, when he’s not wasted, sticks his tongue out; flipping a bird at Isabelle. She simply returns the gesture, unaffected. 

It’s not until Alec has won, and Clary’s resetting the board that Alec relaxes back into the couch completely— passing out at once. 

Magnus glances back to ask a question, words dying on his lips when he sees the dark circles significantly more pronounced with Alec’s eyes closed. 

A soft smile finds its way onto his face when he realises Alec is still holding his hand— albeit, the grip is loose, but it’s so painfully Alec that his heart clenches. 

“Well,” Isabelle mumbles, a smile creeping onto her face as her husband vehemently waves a hand in front of her sleeping brother, “I think this calls for borrowing Alec’s Netflix account.” 

It’s late in the evening, when snores and mumbles fill the room. Alec shuffles against the cushion and Magnus turns at the noise. He blinks owlishly when his gaze falls upon the pale skin revealed just above Alec’s hip bone. 

In jet black ink, it reads: _mens regnum bona possidet._

And it’s in this phrase, that Magnus learns that everything that Alec is, is everything he’s ever wanted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mens regnum bona possidet, from the author Seneca: 
> 
> “an honest heart is a kingdom in itself”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so short im so sorry but i am v busy right now and on the verge of a crisis but i figured i should probably update okay gotta run byeeeee

“Alec?” Magnus calls softly, watching as his darling breaks warm hands away from his face, warm cerulean eyes looking delightfully sleepy and innocent.

Instead of responding however, his Adonis only lets out a short hum, vaguely acknowledging the prompt whilst urging magnus to continue his train of thought. 

“What does your tattoo mean?” 

Alec pauses, clearly confused, as his sleep-muddled brain tries to figure out when and where Magnus had seen the strip of skin across his hip. An absent hand finds its way to the patch of ivory, burrowing between the waist band of old sweats. 

It’s evident, that Alec knows Magnus is asking a question of why, not what; and his response is soft, but speaks only of truth and strength, “My dad was not an honest man, and I will never be him. You don’t deserve to rule the world if you can only do so by making promises you can’t keep.” 

A ghost of a smile flashes across Magnus features, and he makes a soft (but toddler-sequel) gesture with his hands before tugging the giant mass of raven hair and limbs onto his lap.

“You are unequivocally beautiful, and there is no one else I would rather love.” 


End file.
